


Ghosts Can't Play Exy

by cloudtalking



Series: Ghosts Can't Play Exy [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: And later on it's Riko's but ya'll are gonna enjoy that, Blood and Gore, But like it was in the past?, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Neil's dead my dudes, ghost au, idk what else to say, medicated Andrew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudtalking/pseuds/cloudtalking
Summary: "It wasn't what he was looking for. A file on Neil Josten, striker for the Palmetto State Foxes, deceased. Andrew put it down and went back to searching."





	1. Ghosts Can't Make Good First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, GCPE the fic! I'm putting most of my stories to to side until I can finish this, because this is the first au I did for aftg. It makes some changes from the original au, but I hope you like it!
> 
> (Also: I'm using the first scene in Son Nefes for most of the dialogue in this chapter, so the credit goes to none other than the great Nora Sakavic!)

The only thing Andrew knew about Neil Josten was that he _wasn’t_. He wasn’t present in the moment, he wasn’t responsive, he wasn’t even _there_ half of the time.

The first time he saw him was in the corner of the fox lounge. Andrew rocked back and forth, legs criss-crossed over the chair he was sitting on, smiling. His “teammates” were babbling nonsense and his brain wasn’t registering any of it.

He didn’t even bother, choosing instead to focus on the shadow leaning on the wall across from him. The hood of his orange PSU sweatshirt was pulled over his curly black mop, his bangs poking out just underneath the fabric. His hands were stuffed in the pocket of the sweatshirt and his jeans were baggy and torn around the knees.

His face was tilted downwards, staring at nothing in particular. Occasionally, Andrew’s eyes would pass right over the shadow as if he wasn’t even there, so he turned it into a game. He’d focus his gaze on one corner of the wall and quickly drag it towards the next, counting how many times he could catch him.

_Two._

“All right.” Wymack’s voice interrupted his game, too loud for Andrew to tune him out. “We’re all here—”

Andrew turned his eyes back on the shadow, catching him a few more times.

 _Five_.

“Finally,” Dwayne muttered.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. He refocused on his only source of entertainment, determined to keep it up until it got boring.

_Six._

Wymack, a man he’d only met thrice now, labeled himself as the biggest goddamn annoyance in the group. “—so let’s get the boring shit out of the way. Names and ranks around the room.”

Andrew abandoned the boy for now. He needed to get a good look at the people he’d be spending the next few years with. If they didn’t seem to pose a threat, he could ignore them for the rest of his college career.

He tuned out during Dan’s intro, her spiel being too optimistic for him to find any sort of interest in it. His eyes went back to the shadow, who was staring at him with his _welcoming_ blank eyes. He felt a chill go down his spine. This shadow’s piercing gaze was both calculating and unfocused, alternating between mundane brown and something _other_.

Matt went next, keeping his short and sweet. Thankfully, the rest of the foxes did the same. By the time it was Andrews’s turn, he simply flashed his best shark-toothed smile.

“I’m the other Minyard!” he chimed, holding one hand in the air and shaking it like half-assed jazz hands. “Now who is _he._ ”

He pointed to the shadow. “Who?” Seth asked incredulously. “There's no one there, he’s fucking crazy.” He turned to Wymack, clearly intending to fight the decision to allow Andrew onto the team.

“That’s your assistant coach, Neil Carter.” Wymack walked over to the shadow. “Most of you should remember him. He’ll be helping you with your practices throughout the year.”

“Poor Seth, he seems to be suffering from memory loss.” Andrew dragged his index finger down his cheek as if shedding a tear. “Maybe you’re the crazy one.”

Before Seth could retort, Wymack sent them both pointed looks and continued. “Neil’s to be afforded the same respect as I am, and if you have any problems with him you can come to me about them, you hear?”

Neil didn’t seem to hear at all. He kept his eyes on Andrew and didn’t react when Wymack slung a tattooed arm over his shoulder. Andrew tried to discern his thoughts from his expression, but Neil had none. All he had was his intense stare, and Andrew found a new game. He locked eyes with the shadow, facing him head-on, refusing to blink until Neil did.

The shadow disappeared the second he started to go cross-eyed and he had to blink to find him. Andrew cursed, unused to losing his games. It was a welcome distraction though, providing a challenge that made the game a bit more exciting. It didn’t seem like Neil ever blinked.

“We don’t need three goalkeepers.” Reggie’s protest pulled him back into the fray.

“We’ve talked about this,” Wymack said.

“We don’t need three goalkeepers,” Reggie insisted.

“Oh, such a long face,” Andrew said as he mimed wiping away a tear. “No worries! I’m just here for morale.”

“We are fucked,” Juan said.

“That’s new,” Seth said, heavy with sarcasm.

So it seemed, the foxes were a group of heavily fucked people. The thought made him laugh, which put him on the receiving end of several worried looks.

Why was Neil so fucked? He caught the shadow in his sights again. To his disappointment, Neil was back to gazing at the ground.

Andrew reluctantly turned back to the conversation. He’d have to resume his game later then.

* * *

After a few days in Palmetto, the only things that proved to be worthwhile were Neil and Renee.

Renee, who had told him the gist of her tragic backstory without protest, had nothing on Neil. Neither did Dan a few days before that. The only people who would know anything were Wymack and Neil himself, but Andrew was unsure that the latter even talked, so asking him seemed redundant.

In the time that he’d been there, Neil hadn’t spoken a single word. He’d barely appeared at practices, save for the times Andrew had seen him watching on the bleachers, and was occasionally spotted hanging around the tower. Andrew was unsure of Wymack’s decision to keep the shadow around as his assistant.

It wasn’t as if he cared that he wasn’t doing his best to instruct the team- he doubted Neil could make a difference even if he tried, the way the foxes fought. They constantly bit at each other’s throats like rabid wolves, fighting for their place as alpha- but Wymack wouldn’t have taken him on if Neil didn’t have a story.

So what was it? Was he the victim of human trafficking? Did he suffer from a brain injury at the hands of a violent father? Andrew developed a new game in creating backstories for their assistant coach.

Renee, the doll that she was, declined to participate in favor of trading hypothetical apocalypse theories with him. When talking to Renee, Andrew didn’t need a game. It was both unwelcome and refreshing.

But Neil. Oh, the enigma. All he was was fuel for Andrew’s wild mind to create fantasies with. It was only a matter of time before he formed an obsession.

It wasn’t something conscious, but soon the shadow was all he could think about. He was a fly buzzing in his ear, the beginnings of an oncoming headache, an itch under his helmet, impossible to reach.

Andrew needed to kill the damn fly, or it was going to drive him insane.

First, Andrew broke into Wymack’s office. The place was a mess of unorganized paperwork and tapes from different players strewn about, so it was a wonder Andrew found anything.

It wasn’t what he was looking for. A file on Neil Josten, striker for the Palmetto foxes, deceased. Andrew put it down and went back to searching.

He couldn’t find any record of a Neil Carter, which was both frustrating and enticing. Neil was a mystery, a game, something to play with to curb his boredom. A part of Andrew wanted to drag this out forever.

His next plan was to search through Neil’s things. It was a known fact that Neil lived somewhere in the tower, supposedly a fellow student who majored in mathematics. Andrew had yet to find anyone else with that major who knew Neil existed, nor anyone in the tower other than the foxes. His search for Neil’s room had come up with a blank, so he chose the next best thing.

The assistant coach had a locker just like the rest of the foxes, which was odd enough to make Andrew question what he kept in there even before he’d made the plan. Neil didn’t participate in practice, nor did he even seem to come half the time, but Andrew could always count on seeing the shadow before and after practice.

He would enter the combination to his lock- a combination Andrew had memorized- open the locker, take out his duffel, zip it open just enough so he could check the contents of the bag, and then quickly zip it back up and cram it into the locker once more before disappearing.

The foxes had bets on what was in there, each more ridiculous than the next.

Matt thought it was money, Dan thought it was drugs, and Allison had jokingly bet that he hid dead bodies in it.

Andrew himself wasn’t so sure about any of them, and Renee had suggested that he might keep an emergency gun at hand, just in case. Andrew had retorted with the fact that not everyone was as paranoid as she was, which had worked up until she’d pointed out that _he_ was. Arguably even more so.

He’d flipped her off.

He broke into the locker rooms at ten forty-five, the fluorescent lights flickering on as they detected him striding through the room. Andrew entered the combination he’d committed to memory, tugging the lock off and swinging the door open.

It was disappointingly anticlimactic. No booby traps popped out at him, Neil didn’t suddenly appear to stare ominously at him, it was just an old and worn black duffel crammed into an orange locker.

He pulled the bag out and plopped down on the bench to take a look at what lay inside.

He froze, unsure of how to react to what he’d seen. Matt and Dan owed Allison money.

The bag contained several partially-decomposed limbs, bones, and a fuckload of air fresheners. Andrew didn’t know what to make of it.

Neil, the man he’d been so focused on lately, seemed to be either a necrophiliac or a murderer. Neither option was anything Andrew had expected of him.

Neil Carter was a threat, and Andrew knew the best course of action would be to bring the bag of evidence to the police.

Instead, he pulled his hand up into his sleeve and used it like a glove, grabbing the cleanest bone he could find, and put the duffel back in Neil’s locker.

Once he got back to his room, he dropped the bone into an empty drawer in his nightstand and slammed it closed, throwing his shirt into Aaron’s laundry basket and pulling on a new one before climbing into bed.


	2. Ghosts Can't Hide For Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You need to stop," Neil said again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaauuughhh the dialogue in this was painful to write kill me. This references some events from the extra content so if you're confused that's probably why sorry. Anything besides that is on me.

“What the fuck!” Nicky exclaimed, jumping out of bed.

Andrew was on his feet in seconds, knife in hand. He kept it under his pillow for easy reach, as well as the knives secured in his armbands. His eyes darted about, searching for an unseen enemy, but only seeing the aftermath of one.

Clothes and papers were strewn all over the room, drawers were pulled out of their tracks, broken pieces of glass from the lights and Nicky’s souvenirs from Germany littered the floor.

It looked like a tornado had swept through the room while they were sleeping, or maybe a rabid bear. But Andrew was a light sleeper, something formed from years of listening for heavy footsteps outside of his bedroom, and he knew neither could have done this without him knowing.

The room had been in perfect condition when he’d gotten back from the locker rooms, or as perfect as a college dorm housing three athletes could be. Someone had to have broken in and done this without him knowing. It was a thought that chilled him to his very core.

Aaron sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell, Nicky?”

“Fucking _look_ at this shit!” Nicky gestured to the mess incredulously.

“Look at what?” Aaron asked, voice laden with sleep. Nicky’s only response was an incoherent scream.

Andrew’s twin opened his eyes wide as he took in the wreckage, suddenly seeming a lot more awake. “Holy shit.”

Andrew ignored the glass shards that bit into his feet as he strode over to his brother. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I- What the hell, Andrew? You’re _bleeding_.” Aaron eyed the blood staining the carpet. “We need to get you to Abby’s.”

“Are you hurt?” Andrew asked again, voice firm.

“No,” Aaron insisted. “I’m fine.”

Andrew turned to his cousin, who seemed panicked and worried, but uninjured. The intruder had torn up their dorm, but had left the inhabitants alone. He walked back to his nightstand, having a sneaking suspicion of what they stole.

The drawer was left open, completely barren. Andrew didn’t own too many small items to cram into the junk drawer just yet, so it wouldn’t have been too unusual. Except for the fact that he had put something in there the night before.

His eyes narrowed, staring at the offending empty space.

“Andrew?” Nicky asked tentatively. He didn’t respond, choosing instead to grasp his pill bottle from where it had been pushed onto the floor and dry-swallowing his first dose of the day.

It was time to shed light on the shadow. Hopefully it would disappear.

* * *

 

Despite all of his efforts, Andrew couldn’t find Neil. The locker room wasn’t exactly the best place to approach him, what with everyone else listening in, and he didn’t appear anywhere else recently.

Wymack did say to go to him is he had a problem with Neil.

Knocking on the door was an unneeded expression of etiquette that he hoped the coach appreciated. Andrew could just break in like he’d done to his house and alcohol cabinet, but Wymack had pitched a fit at that. Instead, the incessant rapping at his door would have to do.

“What the- shut the hell up!” Wymack’s disgruntled voice came from inside. Andrew could hear his heavy footsteps stomping around from the other side of the door. It made sense, he was a bear of a man, functionally strong with a little bit of fat. His presence made him all the larger. He held himself like he meant something. He’d found his purpose in sheparding his lost little foxes.

Andrew laughed at the thought. Wymack was a big old mama bear who taught his cubs not to maul the surrounding campers in fear of them being hunted down. A remedial school for the Berenstien’s violent cousins.

“Minyard.” Wymack sighed as he opened the door, meeting a blinding grin that promised to bite. “The fuck are you doing?”

“You said to come to you if we had any problems with the assistant coach.” Andrew blinked up at him innocently.

Wymack did not look fooled. “Just break in next time, goddamnit.” He sighed, turning around and walking back into his home, leaving Andrew to follow him.

“Every hour is happy hour. Right, Coach?” Andrew grinned, surveying the empty and half-empty cans of Red Bull and cheap beer.

“I’ll need it, dealing with you kids,” Wymack shot back. He led Andrew into the kitchen which Andrew had broken into the last time he’d been there

“You drink?” he asked as Andrew took a seat, brandishing a bottle of vodka.

“I’m nineteen!” Andrew held a hand to his chest, pretending to be affronted.

Wymack was unimpressed by the act, simply raising an eyebrow in response.

Normally Andrew would say no to any alcohol that wasn’t sweet, but he was starting to lose the high his meds supplied, so he agreed. Wymack poured some for them both and Andrew quickly downed his, intent on ignoring the taste as the burn hit the back of his throat.

“So,” Wymack took a swig of his own drink, “what’s this about my assistant coach?” His tone was defensive and his body was tense. Andrew wasn’t sure if he was bracing for what he had to say or getting ready to attack.

“What’s his story?” Andrew set aside his empty glass and leaned closer over the table.

“His shit ain’t mine to tell,” Wymack replied.

“Maybe, but he won’t tell me either.” Andrew shrugged. “I tried to read his file but he didn’t have one. I tried to break into his room and he didn’t have one. I tried to tail him during the day and it turns out that he doesn’t have any classes here, could you imagine that?” Andrew smiled as if sharing a joke with his his rapidly paling coach.

“Mind your own damn business!” Wymack growled.

“I would,” it was a half-truth, “but he minded mine.”

“You did something,” Wymack accused, seeing right through him. “I wouldn’t have if I could’ve figured out what his deal was, but he’s so elusive, our little rabbit,” Andrew admitted. “Always hopping away, are you sure he’s a fox?”

“Neil’s more of a fox than anyone.” Wymack narrowed his eyes. “You can’t make him leave.”

 

“I _can_ ,” Andrew insisted. “And I will, if I decide he’s a threat. He’s walking on thin ice as it is.”

“You _can’t_.” Wymack shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t get it.”

“Make me get it,” Andrew demanded.

“Find out for yourself, or better yet? Leave it be. Getting on Neil’s bad side isn’t something you want to do,” Wymack advised.

It was a bit too late for that now, wasn’t it?

“Why?” Andrew prodded. “You afraid of him?”

“I’m afraid _for_ him,” Wymack said. “Just like I am for all of you. Leave him alone, you’ll be better off.”

“No.” Andrew waved off his advice. “If you won’t tell me anything about him, tell me where to find him so _he_ can.”

“I’m not helping you with this.” Wymack shook his head. “I’m here to give you a second chance, not a chance to let yourself get killed.”

“So he’s dangerous?” Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Only if you’ve crossed him. Be thankful you haven’t so far.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” the goalie asked.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Wymack said.

Andrew didn’t respond.

* * *

 

There was a certain kind of magic to the roof, Andrew thought, dangling his feet over the edge. He could feel the pull of gravity, could feel the way the ground was calling to him, could feel his heart beating in his chest, could feel the warmth of the cigarette between his lips. But most of all he could _feel_.

It also meant he could feel a pair of dark eyes boring into his back. He quickly turned to face the intruder, eyes narrowing once he realized who it was.

“Oh, Neil.” Andrew crooned. “I’ve been looking for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Wymack why can't I write you


	3. Ghosts Can't Keep Track of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as: "Andrew and Neil have a conversation and Birdie rambles"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk about this chapter because it's definitely a filler but my beta says it's good bc they're a wonderful human being. Sorry there was no chapter last Sunday! I had just gotten back from vacation and i was Tired.

Neil, in a shocking display of cognitive function, turned his head and spoke. “I’ve been here.”

“So you _do_ speak.” Andrew grinned. “Color me surprised.”

“I can speak better than most people,” Neil said in German, scowling at the blonde. “Stop threatening my team.”

Andrew’s grin grew wider at that. “Oh, Neil. So full of surprises, you are.”

He supposed he _had_ threatened them, hadn’t he? Making cruel comments in both English and German during every practice. Any passing thought he had flew out of his mouth due to the meds, but Andrew couldn’t say he regretted it.

“You need to stop,” Neil said again.

Andrew pretended to consider it. He put his chin in his hand in thought. “No.”

Neil looked furious, an emotion he’d never seen on the shadow before. Any expression from him was new, really. It was incredibly addicting, making his face contort in rage. Andrew wondered how many expressions he could coax out of the other boy, studying Neil’s face as the other boy tried to compose himself well enough to speak.

“If you don’t try to get along with them, we won’t win!” Neil exclaimed. “We need to win.”

“Win?” Andrew scoffed. “The foxes have been around for three years and they’ve won maybe six games as a whole.”

“What?” Neil furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You’re the assistant coach.” Andrew pointed out. “You should know this.”

“I-” Neil tried to say something, but cut himself off, muttering under his breath.

“Hey!” Andrew snapped his fingers. “Hey, rabbit!”

It was no use, Neil was back to his usual state of “not quite there." Andrew cursed. He’d have to get to the interrogation faster next time. At least now he knew where Neil perched.

He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke out into the air while watching the shadow. He really hoped Neil turned out to be a threat, just as an excuse for Andrew to get rid of him.

In the next few days, the rooftop visits became a ritual. Neil wasn’t showing up, but Andrew swore he could still feel him watching him. He was in the shadows that danced across his vision, outlined in the smoke that Andrew exhaled.

Days bled into weeks and into months and Neil barely appeared at all. It was frustratingly obvious how much Andrew had depended on the shadow to keep himself entertained. Without him, Andrew was left with an increasing amount of unanswered questions and anger expressed in shark-like smiles.

He turned to Renee to let it out, but seeing the bruises blossom on her skin was disconcerting. Especially since she bore far more than he did. He wasn’t one to feel guilt over predetermined deals, but seeing the only person he considered a friend wince in pain from injuries he caused wasn’t a welcome side effect.

He tried to focus on other things, finding the tiniest of problems in the foxes and their players and pointed them out so everyone else could see them too. Not so they could be fixed, but so that he could watch the team argue until he got bored of it.

Sometimes, if the infighting got particularly bad, Dan or Wymack would end practice early. On those days, he usually treated himself to a tub of some obscure flavor of ice cream to commemorate a job well done.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of those days.

“Minyard!” Dan shouted. “Get the hell up! We need to treat this like a game!”

“Hmm?” Andrew lifted his head from where it had been held in his hand, his elbows resting on the floor of the court.

“If you’re not gonna play, get out of the damn goal. I don’t have time to deal with people that don’t try to improve,” Dan ordered. “That goes for all of you. Starting today anyone who decided that they don’t give a shit is going to be benched!” Normally that’d be something Andrew would do _gladly_ , but he wouldn’t let Dan make an example out of him.

“I don’t need to move,” Andrew drawled. “None of your shots reach the goal anyway.”

Seth, as expected, launched into a protest arguing against the blonde. But Andrew didn’t care to hear it, unthreading and rethreading the laces on his racquet. The crisis had been averted.

Wymack eventually sighed and told Reggie to switch out with Andrew, which was fine by him. Dan looked furious and opened her mouth to speak her mind, but ultimately closed it and went back to captaining.

Good. She was learning.

Surveying the players from the bench wasn’t much different from doing the same from the goal and he never bothered doing that much anyway. Even when Wymack ordered him to pay attention so that he could at least learn _something_ , he kept his face turned away from the practicing players.

He wished avoiding the foxes was that simple outside of practice as well.

Someone knocked on their door, almost as obnoxiously as he had knocked on Wymack’s, and Nicky got up to let them in.

All six feet and six inches of Matt Boyd stepped through the door and Nicky glad to step aside and watch as he did it. Andrew tensed up from his place on his beanbag chair. Nicky should’ve just let him wait outside.

“Hello gorgeous.” Nicky grinned. “Here to take me up on my offer?”

“Er, no.” Matt rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. For a giant, he was surprisingly easy to fluster, but that was just what Nicky liked about him. His body certainly helped, but Nicky flirted mostly just to flirt. He didn’t expect anything to come of it except cuddling and companionship, and if it got farther than that? He’d ask Erik first. Otherwise, he’d just find a nameless guy at Eden’s to blow him. As long as it didn’t get too intimate or personal, Erik was okay with Nicky searching out other partners and visa-versa.

“That’s too bad,” Nicky pouted at him. “Why are you here then?”

“To invite you to Dan’s dorm.” Matt grinned. “She wants to do some team bonding, since we don’t know you very well.”

Nicky turned back towards Andrew whose smile couldn’t pass as one. It was the cruel edge of the meds wearing off before his next dose. Andrew thought he might collapse if he got up from his chair, let alone go waste his time with a group of people who just didn’t seem to _get it._

Nicky bit his lip nervously before putting on a false smile. “As much as I’d love to spend more time with _you_ ,” he leered, “we have plans, but I’ll see if we can change them.”

Matt sent both Andrew and Nicky searching looks before sighing at their unchanging expressions.

“We’re meeting up at five, if you can manage to make the time for it,” he said dryly. Matt waved a quick goodbye as he turned around and stalked back out the door.

Nicky turned to Andrew the moment Matt was gone. “Please?” He clasped his hands together and batter his eyelashes.

“I hate that word.” It wasn’t the first time Andrew had said it to Nicky and it wouldn’t be the last.

Nicky’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, Andrew. I didn’t mean-” Andrew held his hand up to stop his cousin. Nicky, for his part, had only slipped up a few times while he’d known him. But Andrew couldn’t hear it, especially with sobriety so close he could almost hold it in his hands. Andrew wondered if it would bite him if he tried. For all he longed to pour his pills down the drain, he did need some form of medication. He was crazy after all, right? Who cared if the fog in his mind made him feel like a caged animal? As far as the justice system was concerned, he was.

“Well,” Nicky’s foot tapped against the carpet. It felt like the throbbing of a headache on his ears. “I just- we don’t have anyone but us. It’s cool I guess, us against the world and all, but can’t we at least try to socialize?”

“No one’s stopping you.” Andrew made a shooing gesture at his cousin. “Go on, leave.”

Nicky stayed rooted in his spot. “Andrew, I’m not gonna leave you.”

Why did he have to be so needlessly dramatic about a goddamn party? Why did he have to read Andrew’s words for exactly what they were? Why couldn’t he just leave?

Not having a deal with Nicky was nerve wracking. He could leave at any time, there was nothing binding him to Andrew. He _should_ leave, in fact. He’d be better off.

“Pity.” Andrew pouted.

“Someone has to make sure you two eat a decent breakfast.” Nicky joked weakly. Neither twin could handle hot spices very well, even if Aaron insisted he could. Since Nicky’s palette consisted of mostly exactly that, he could really only make omelettes as a “family meal”.

Andrew huffed. “We can go,” he decided, “if Aaron agrees.”

Nicky pumped his fist into the air. “Thank you!”

Andrew turned his attention back to the nonsensical cartoon on the television. He’d take his next dose soon and follow his lot to the train wreck the party was sure to be.

If Dan hadn’t learned from simply practicing with him, she would learn from this. Andrew was only there for his brother and the chances to get off of his meds. There was very little he gave a shit about otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue between Andrew and Neil was probably really out of character but like my birthday is tomorrow so cut me some slack.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to update this regularly, but we'll see.


End file.
